Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [53]
"Elverquisst! Gods, Lady Highness, but this is a gift fit for… kings." His voice trailed off slowly, his eyes on hers.
Alusair shrugged. "I like you. I must admit I want you. You fight well, better than most of the citified nobles I've had to command. And if I can't have you as husband-or openly, as brother-well, I need a friend at the moment."
"Aye," Brace said softly. "I have noticed that." He gently took her arms and looked steadily into her eyes. "Do you mean this?" he asked. "I mean, needing a friend? The gulf between noble and royal is as deep at times as that between noble and farmer. You and your elder sister Tanalasta have always occupied another sphere of existence, removed from even the rarefied intrigues of the nobility. Can Alusair the Firetongue trust a mere member of the nobility?"
Oak-brown eyes blazed into his with a leaping, amber fury like a brushfire for a moment, and the arms in his grasp trembled. "You dare?" she gasped.
Brace held her gaze steadily and said, "I do."
They held gazes for a long time, during which neither drew breath, and then he added softly, "Forgive my blunt words, High Lady, but it had to be said. I have been raised to respect the Obarskyr line, and though I have been told my heritage, I and… others like me have been taught not to dream of the crown. That belongs only to one truly Obarskyr born and Obarskyr raised. Yet, even given all this, can you trust me-or anyone-enough?"
She looked down and away for a moment, biting at her lip. Then her head came up again, proudly, and she met his eyes again with all the fire gone. She nodded. "It was fairly asked," she murmured, "and-I can trust. I will trust. For you. And as a friend, I will tell you we will be on patrol out here longer than we had planned, until we have found all of those Black Network gates."
Brace Skatterhawk let go of her arms and trailed his left hand down to her right hand. He grasped her hand and raised it slowly to his lips. "Then I should be honored to be your friend."
Then he reached for the buckles that held her armor along one shapely flank. "I can think of one way to celebrate this friendship. Brothers daren't do such things, or people talk. And lovers are always in too much of a hurry to get to-other matters. But friends, now…"
"Keep your hands on the buckles, 'Friend' Brace," Alusair said warningly, turning to let the firelight fall on her side so that he could see what he was undoing. He gently laid aside the plates that covered her torso and gestured to her to sit. She obeyed.
"As I was saying," Brace continued in dignified tones, "friends have the only hands suitable for the removal of chafing armor… and the rubbing of tired feet."
"Ahhh," Alusair moaned, lying back and closing her eyes in genuine ecstasy. "I've made the correct choice! I should have surmised you were as good with your hands as you were with your blade. It's good to have a championship foot rub, particularly when the realm is in dire peril." An errant thought crossed her mind as she spoke, and she stiffened involuntarily.
"Princess?" he asked anxiously.
She waved a dismissive hand. "No… I just remembered something, that's all…"
"A secret, or something to share?" he asked, and she shook her head absently.
"A secret," was all she said, but the thought was blazing through her brain over and over again. She knew she was right. In all her life, she'd never heard her father say, "the realm is in dire peril," but it had always been one of Vangerdahast's favorite phrases. She frowned and thought of the message plate. Why would the old wizard be impersonating her father?
What was Vangerdahast up to now?
Chapter 8: Massacre
Year of Distant Thunder
(16 DR)
Ondeth and the others picked